‘Gae, fetch a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And wap them into our ship’s side,
And letna the sea come in.’
They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith,
Another o’ the twine,
And they wapped them round that gude ship’s side,
But still the sea came in.
O laith laith were our gude Scots lords
To wet their cork-heeled shoon!
But lang ere a’ the play was play’d
They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather-bed
That floated on the faem,
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair came hame.
The ladyes wrang their fingers white—
The maidens tore their hair;
A’ for the sake of their true loves—
For them they’ll see na mair.
O lang lang may the ladyes sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Come sailing to the strand!